M'Ress
by The Night was Moist
Summary: Having an alien cat-girl for a roommate can sometimes be very frustrating...but it can also be a life saver.


**A/N: **A huge thank you to Heist for beta-ing this and for giving me suggestions on how to shape the final version. This fic takes place in a different 'universe' from my other S/U story "A Simple Girl". It was inspired by a number of Uhura and Gaila fics I've seen on this site. M'Ress is a character from Star Trek: The Animated Series. To tell the truth, I've barely seen any of the animated series, and this is basically a "reimagined" version of her. There are a lot of pictures of her on the Internet if you want a visual reference. In Star Trek lore, M'Ress is not pronounced _Em_ress. It's actually pronounced Mer_ess_ (with "er" as in Ernest). However, Nyota usually calls her "Mer" for short (which I spell as Mrr).

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Star Trek. And no, I don't own a cat, either.

**M'Ress**

I stepped into the blackness of our quarters.

"Computer, lights."

Illumination flooded the room, but things didn't seem as bright as they should be. I shot a suspicious look at my roomie, who was lounging luxuriously upon her bed by the far wall, her eyes focused on her PADD.

"Hey," I said.

"Rrowr," she replied.

"Does it still seem kind of dim to you?"

"No. Light normal."

"Really?"

"Rrowr."

My eyes narrowed. I took the day shift. She took the night shift. We often had a number of hours to spend with each other before it was her turn on the bridge. Like all Caitians, she loved the night, and when it wasn't night, she loved it as dark as possible. Lately, I'd been suspecting that she'd been fiddling around with the preset light levels when I was gone, hoping that if she did it gradually enough, I wouldn't notice.

But I decided not to press the matter, as I didn't want to get into a needless fight with her and risk ruining the mood I was in. Because I was in a pretty _good_ mood. Of course, some could also call it a pretty _strange _mood. After all, less than 24 hours ago I broke up with the man I once thought I'd be spending my life with. No doubt, there were a _lot_ of people who'd be pretty depressed after doing something like that. But I wasn't one of those people.

Really. I wasn't.

Crashing onto my bed, I just laid there watching her for a while. She was situated on her tummy, attired in her red on-duty uniform. My last roommate had green skin, hers was a tawny yellow. Well, it wasn't skin, exactly, but a really fine fur that looked like skin from a distance. As she looked down at her PADD, I heard an almost imperceptible purring emanating from her throat. She often sounded like that when she was concentrating on something interesting.

"What are you reading?" I asked.

"jlH 'oH laD paq Daq tlhIngan porgh."

"Klingon anatomy?" I exclaimed.

"Yes. Fascinating."

"But what the hell for?"

"We're Starfleet warriors. Must know enemy."

I groaned. "Newsflash, Mrr, we're in Communications, not Security."

She shrugged. "On Caitian ships, everyone is in Security. Even doctors. Even chef."

Just when I thought I was beginning to understand her, she always threw another curveball at me.

"Wait a minute, Mrr. Why would Caitian ships need a chef?"

"To feed food. To take care of food," she said simply.

"Oh."

Maybe she had the wrong translation, and meant 'food handler' or something. As I knew all too well, Caitians were heavy-duty meat lovers who preferred their food in three ways: uncooked, conscious, and running around. Apparently, on Caitian ships, _the_ place to be during off-hours was the ginormous mess hall/indoor forest/hunting grounds where everyone and their favorite prey had a gay ol' time.

Having transferred to the _Enterprise_ straight from a Caitian ship, M'Ress had found the habits from her old vessel hard to break. On the night right after she moved in, I woke up to a heart attack after finding a large-sized Cardassian vole shivering in fright between my sheets. There aren't many things in this universe that are uglier than a Cardassian vole, and that'd been the first time that my animal-loving self had come oh-so close to skinning a cat.

The second time had been the day after that, when I'd come off my shift to see a pack of Tellarite drakhas hanging from our ceiling, their dead juices draining, drop by drop, into buckets on the floor. She told me afterwards that she liked to mix the blood with milk to form a tasty concoction that she'd then heat up in the thermowave. After I was done throwing up, I cleaned that thermowave for two hours straight. When I couldn't get the smell out, I just gave up and decided to buy another one for 'Nyota's Use Only'.

Eventually, we both managed to set our boundaries, and there were only a few more times when I had to fight off the urge to clip her claws. Our peace was maintained by her 'food locker', a long, massive storage container that took up almost the entire length of the wall beside her bed. She'd received it as a gift a few days after she'd come onboard. It was her prized possession…and mine. Mine, because it kept those critters in there, soundproofed and locked in…barely locked in. Sometimes I could see the top lid shuddering ever so slightly. Sometimes, I dreamed of that lid. I dreamed of it popping up, of terrified, high-pitched screams issuing forth. Under threat of death, she now only opened it when I was gone.

But as tragic as they were, the brief lives of lower life forms just weren't at the top of my mind right now. With a sigh, I looked back towards where she was lying. Her head remained buried in her PADD, her long, tufted tail was doing twirly whirlies in the air above her. For the next few minutes, I watched that tail swing around and around in a steady, hypnotizing motion.

"So. It's over," I said.

"Rrowr?" she replied, her eyes still aimed only at her PADD.

"Yesterday with Spock. Before the reception. I went through with it, just like I said I would. I'm free." Sitting up, I leaned back against the wall and scooped up my knees in front of me.

She shook her head, her mouth pursed in obvious disapproval. "Poor Honored Vulcan. Neutered."

"Neutered?"

"On Cait, when mating partnership ends prematurely, female takes claws and…ROWRRRR!" she screamed, swinging a mitt-full of razor-sharp nails through empty air.

"You're not serious," I replied, after falling back down from the ceiling.

"Very serious," she said gravely. "It's instinctive. Biological imperative. Therefore, law is lenient."

"Come on, Mrr."

"It's true," she insisted. "Not many outsiders know. Happens very rarely, you see. Caitian males very cooperative. Divorce or separation? Almost non-existent."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Anyways, I don't know what the hell you're talking about. I didn't _neuter_ him."

Mrr finally put down her PADD and deigned to turn her attention towards me with her big yellow eyes. "Yes. You did neuter him, psychologically speaking. Worse than physical act itself." She shook her head again, this time clucking her tongue. "Very unfortunate. True that males always to blame. Always…except _Vulcan _males."

I shifted on the bed with a sigh. She always took _his_ side in everything. In fact, she practically worshiped him, though in an entirely platonic way, of course. Oh God, that reminded me. There was an entire shipload of girls out there with intentions that were anything _but_ platonic. I had no doubt that at this very moment they were scouting him out, hiding behind every turbolift door like packs of fierce sehlats, ready to pounce upon unsuspecting prey.

Not that any of it mattered, of course. Not anymore. Even that Vulcan ambassador, who cared about her? I didn't. Not. At. All. Heck, she and everyone else could _have_ him. Maybe they could all fight over him at once. Tear him apart.

"Well, he sure as hell didn't _act_ like I'd mentally castrated him, and I sure as hell wasn't _trying_ to. Before I went in, I had it all planned out, and I followed that plan to the letter. I gave him my reasons, one by one, even tried to make it sound all logical to make it go down easier. And do you know what? He just stood there like I was speaking Tholian the whole time. And do you know what he said to me after?"

"Yes. I do."

I did a double take. "You _do_?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"After you left to go to Honored Vulcan's quarters, I remotely accessed his console. Turned on intercom. Heard entire conversation."

"What?" I shouted.

"Like I said, Caitian breakups rare. Thought it could be interesting to learn. But you bored me," she finished sadly.

"M'Ress!"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm joking, silly human. Laugh!"

"Well, I'm glad you're finding this so amusing." Throwing one of my pillows at her, I scored a satisfying hit on her bushy head. "And don't shred that one," I added, with a warning finger.

"Sorry. I know it is serious matter." Plopping her padded feet on the floor, she hunched forward, put her paw-like hands together, and cocked her head expectantly. "Please continue."

I could only shake my head in amazement. Why did I always get the nutzoid roomies, and what's more, why did I always love them? Truth was, the whole ship had come to love her, virtually infected by her wide-eyed innocence and childlike enthusiasm. Sometimes, I wasn't convinced that she was indeed much more than a child. Caitians developed quickly at an early age and I'm pretty sure she was a good five to ten years younger than I was, which would make her 14 at most…in human years that is.

Of course, her popularity wasn't hurt by the fact that she was practically one-of-a kind. Caitians were a very rare sight on mixed-species ships like the _Enterprise_, as they usually preferred to serve together on Starfleet vessels that were manned only by their own kind. Part of the reason was their unique physiological needs, but another was that they were extremely social creatures who typically eschewed the barriers that humans and other races put between them. For instance, she once told me that on Caitian ships, there were no individual crew quarters. Rather, there were a series of gender neutral 'common rooms', where everybody of the same rank basically lived and slept together during their off-hours. But she said that it wasn't as kinky as it sounded. If you wanted to get a little frisky with your boyfriend at night, you took it outside, just like if you mewed too loudly in your sleep, you _also_ took it outside.

But M'Ress' own Caitian instincts had been overridden by her all-consuming desire to serve on the flagship of the Federation. And she very well-deserved the position, as she was a crackerjack with a communications console, and was proficient in just as many languages as me. True, she had a few…problems with English, but it's not like I could speak even an ounce of Caitian, so who was I to say anything? Besides, she knew more than enough to get by while on-duty, and with my help, she'd been getting a lot better.

When she first came on board a few months ago, Jim had called in a big favor to get me to share my quarters with her, thinking that a living companion would help acclimate her to a mostly-human crew. But we'd since decided to make it a more permanent arrangement, and I couldn't help but admit that it felt good having a constantly close friend these days.

"Okay," I said, holding out my hands for emphasis. "So, I'm all done my speech…in Vulcan no less, made sure I had the proper grammar, syntax, and everything. And get this: for a few seconds he just stands there with this blank look on his face, and then he says 'I thank you for your friendship, Nyota, and I wish you well in your future endeavors. By the way, your last sub-space log contained several errors. Can we discuss it before you go?'"

My good mood completely ruined, I growled in disgust, bounded off my bed, and began to pace the room. "I mean, here we've been together almost two years - two frickin' years of my life - not even including the time we spent screwing around at the Academy." I shrugged. "Both literally and not. And that's all he's got to say to me? At the end of everything? At the end of _us_? Can you _believe_ it?"

"Yes," she replied. "Vulcans always maintain dignity. No drama. They are noble species. Beloved on Cait. Did you know they evolved from feline ancestors?"

"No." Actually, I did recall reading that somewhere, but I _really_ wasn't interested at the moment.

"It's true," she continued. "They are our brethren. They look just like Caitians. But with no fur, and no tail." She looked at her fuzzy hands. "And five digits." She blinked a few times. "And smaller eyes." Her muzzle twitched a bit. "And no whiskers." She appeared to consider things a bit more, and then nodded her head with the utmost of assurance. "Still, just like us."

In righteous rage, I marched over to stand directly in front of her. "And you know what, Mrr? I didn't cry. Even though I'd prepared myself, I thought I'd still cry, because I _always_ cry. I mean, every time I watch a stupid romance flick I cry. And not just the sad ones, mind you, even the bloody rom-coms! But I looked into that blank, implacable face of his and realized that there just wasn't anything on there worth crying over. And you know what _else_? I have not cried since. Not once."

She peered at me with uncertainty. "Too many 'cries', Human. Hard to follow. And what is _rom-com_?"

"It's a…it doesn't matter." My shoulders slumping, I gathered my arms against my chest and shuffled away in retreat.

He always knew how much I loved movies, and yet he never went with me to the ship's theatre. Actually, that wasn't completely true. One time – just as a little experiment – I literally dragged his ass to what I couldn't deny was an over-dramatic piece of fluff. For the whole two hours, he just sat there in an intense meditative trance, making his mind as impervious as it could be against the sappy, weepy light-filled images at the front. And when we were walking out of the theatre after, with me hanging on his arm, the first words that came out of his mouth were 'Never again.'

"Why you laugh?" she asked. "I didn't tell joke."

"What?" I said, looking at her. "I wasn't laughing."

"Yes. You were," she said insistently. "I heard. I saw."

I crossed my arms. "Yeah, well, if I _was_ then maybe it was about one of those things that's kind of funny, but really isn't."

She shook her head forlornly. "Illogical."

"Yeah." I looked around the room. "Are you _sure _it's not darker in here?"

"I'm sure," she said in a tone I thought was a little too innocent. Then, her head tilted to one side. "Was curious. What started this, you and him?"

"Haven't I told you already?"

She gave me an exasperated look. "You tell me _lots _of things, Human. So many things. So _confusing_. On Cait, when we have relationship problems, we maim. Not talk. Am looking for _one_ thing: precipitating incident.

"Precipitating?"

Her eyes looked at the ceiling. "The _key_ incident, Genius. When you first started to get mad at him."

Finding it difficult to answer her, for some reason, I walked over to the dresser that she and I both shared. Sitting on the top left hand corner was a broach, an admittedly 24-karat broach, on which was engraved the image of an IDIC. It was really just one of a host of other little trinkets that were in my jewelry box…trinkets that I had to acknowledge were mostly from him. I refused to give him any credit for them though. He came from a _very_ rich family, and Vulcans didn't care much about wealth, so what the hell else was he going to do but spend it on me?

Picking up the broach, I began to fiddle with it. "It was almost a month ago," I said, looking over my shoulder at her. "You know that…problem that I helped him with?"

"Yes. Pon Farr. I remember."

"Well, as I'm sure you also remember, he didn't want to do that bonding thing that goes with it."

"Yes yes. Telepathic mating bond. Told you that bond is for life. Big decision."

"But I was ready to _make _that decision! I mean, we'd been through so much over these past few years. And finally, we had this chance to really be together, you know - in our minds_ - _where he wouldn't have to hide anything from me anymore."

Behind me, I could hear her voice lower into an almost conspiratorial whisper. "Did I not tell you? I know Vulcans. I know their _secrets_. Bond is traditionally forged at time of Pon Farr, but can be forged at _any_ time. You would not have had to wait seven more years. His reluctance meant nothing."

Suddenly, I felt the urge to throw the golden broach onto the floor and stomp it into a golden piece of trash. "Yes, you _did_ tell me. And that's what _he_ tried to tell me. And maybe I would have believed him, but for one little thing. Did I tell you that I only found out about the mating bond after the Pon Farr had already happened? That's right. I had to find out _myself _after doing a little digging around in the ship's computer. I would've done some digging beforehand, but the Pon Farr happened so quickly that I wasn't able to. I mean, one moment he's fine, the next moment he's throwing things against walls, and the moment after that, he's throwing _me_ up against walls.

"But why should I have even had to do any digging in the _first_ place? I trusted him, Mrr. He should've told me the bond was an option. I like options. Who doesn't like options? I mean, maybe you're right. Maybe the bond was a pretty big option. Maybe a little _too_ big. But why did he try to hide it from me? And do you know what he did when I asked him that very same question? He tried feeding me bullshit!

"Let me tell you something, Mrr. Although Vulcans are good at a lot of things, they're just not good at bullshit. It's just not their specialty. But _you_ like jokes, so I'll let you know what he said in his own defense, just so we can have a little laugh between the two of us. Do you know what he said? He said that he didn't want to inadvertently pressure me into conforming to his people's traditions. Ha! That's a good one. I mean, he pulls this crap and then he tries to cover it up by pretending that he's doing _me _a favor?

"Yes, Mrr. I know. I know what you're going to say. I mean, you're always defending him, aren't you? You're going to say that he wasn't bullshitting me, that he _wasn't_ covering anything up, that I was just overreacting as per usual. That's what you're going to say to me. Right, Mrr? Well you're wrong, Mrr. I'm sorry, but you're _wrong, _because as the last two weeks have shown me...what the hell are you doing?"

I'd turned my head to see that she had contorted her limbs into an impossible position, and was busily lapping away at a spot on her thigh.

"Just cleaning," she said, barely glancing at me. "Go on."

I could only gawk at her. Here I was pouring out my heart, and she was using the opportunity to give herself a bath! But then again, she'd practically heard it all before, so it wasn't like I could blame her. Feeling deflated, I tossed the IDIC back onto the dresser and went to look out the window…to look at the stars, and then I began to think about the last two weeks.

On the surface, it was just another boring mission: escort diplomats and dignitaries from a dozen or more planets to a world called Babel for another oh-so-important conference. But not this time. This time, the ship was on high alert, for this time, there were Deltans on board. Yes. Deltans. Seven of them. An ambassador and her retinue. All women. All perfect. All bald. I didn't know it was possible for bald women to look so beautiful, but they did. In fact, their entire race looked like perfectly-programmed department store holo-mannequins…only programmed with no hair. But it wasn't just their good looks that were formidable. They also gave off some sort of 'vibe' that caused the opposite sex of almost every species to feel an intense attraction towards them. Some believed that the vibe was telepathic in nature, others believed that it was biochemical in nature. The only thing that the girls of the starship _Enterprise_ believed was that it meant war.

But as it turned out, the Deltans were the last thing that I had to worry about.

Spock and I had been taking a little break from each other. The whole revelation about the bonding thing had completely sucked the wind out of our relationship. I'd come by his quarters one night to try and jump start the process of patching things up. But it was bad timing. Because though his mental control made him virtually immune to Deltan vibes, they apparently didn't make him immune to her. Yes. Her. A green-blooded goddess somehow more beautiful than the entire Deltan delegation put together. And she was in his quarters. With him.

Okay, so maybe they weren't doing anything but sitting down and having some tea. And maybe I shouldn't have been too surprised about that. After all, she was supposedly some kind of big shot emissary, one of the Federation's go-to ambassadors. And that's what Spock had told me he was interested in being one day, an ambassador, just like his father. He'd been talking about it ever since the two of them had reconciled. Well, one way to prepare for such a career was to make contacts with the right people. And there she was…ready to be contacted.

I was just going to leave, but she insisted on meeting me. I didn't want to meet _her_, but being the nice girl I was, I sat down and told her about myself. She didn't looked too impressed about what I had to say. Then they began to discuss politics. Well, I didn't _know_ anything about politics. I'd always hated politics. Then the discussion turned to other things, like advanced multitronic artificial intelligence systems. Well, I didn't _know_ anything about advanced multitronic artificial intelligence systems. I knew a _lot _about computers, but not about crap like that. And after I sat there like a dummy for a half hour, they began talking about music – more specifically the Vulcan lyre. That was something I _did_ know. A little. He'd been trying to teach me, but I was still quite the novice.

Apparently, she was a virtuoso. In fact, she seemed to be a virtuoso in just about _everything_, like she was some kind of brilliant polymath…like him. And her expressionless face and monotone voice - albeit her breathtakingly _beautiful_ expressionless face and monotone voice - were not able to conceal her disdain for me. By the end of that conversation, she and I both knew that the two of us were on two completely different levels…and _she _was the one on _his _level.

So I left, almost in tears. But that wasn't the end of it. Over the following days, I saw a lot of the two of them together - all through the ship - walking in the places where we used to walk, sitting in the places where we used to sit. And then everything came to a head the night before last.

I was walking down the ship's corridors on the way to the movie theatre, about to drown myself in another piece of cinematic fluff, when I heard this wonderful music coming from the recreation room. I entered inside, to a packed house of entranced crew members and dignitaries watching the two of them up there on the stage, a perfectly matched pair, playing their ka'athyras in flawless counterpoint. It sounded so beautiful, it was like they were playing one instrument and not two. And then there was the applause. Even when I practically ran out of the room, the applause would not stop assaulting my ears, as it thundered throughout the corridors. Somebody had apparently had the bright idea of piping the performance through the ship-wide speakers.

I didn't go to the movie after that, instead choosing to retreat to my quarters. It was there that a dark epiphany came upon me, and I finally knew what had to be done. Thus, I rendered myself almost as emotionless as he was, and carefully and methodically drew up my plan, to be carried out the very next evening.

That plan did not include mentioning _her_ to him, the reason being that I didn't want to make things any more difficult than they had to be. And as I found out later, it was the right call. I didn't _need_ to mention her. No. His cold and callous reaction to the breakup was all that I needed to confirm the truth.

For the truth was that he'd replaced me with a newer model, a superior and more logical model, a model that wouldn't pester him with silly human things like movies and dinner dates, shopping trips and shore leaves.

A model that he could bond with.

Shaking my head, I looked back at my roomie. She was done licking one leg and had moved on to the other, starting with her foot. "You know what, Mrr? I've finally realized that I was deluded from the start. I used to think that even though we were so different in so many ways, that I was still supposed to be the one for him. But now I know that I never even had a chance. Maybe I was good enough to be a lifesaver in the sack, but not much else - _definitely_ not good enough to be a life partner."

Releasing her foot, she harshly shook her head. "You shouldn't talk about yourself like that."

"Oh, don't worry, Mrr. I'm over him already! You see, it's better this way. I mean, why waste any feelings on a guy who clearly isn't going to waste any on me? Now I can finally find a _genuine_ relationship with someone who's more at my level. Someone who loves me for who I am. Hell, someone who just loves me in the first place, would be nice."

She froze, her eyes glancing from side to side. "You don't believe he loves you?"

"Uh…I thought it'd be obvious, Mrr. I mean, I did just break up with him, didn't I?"

She shrugged. "Told you not to."

I looked back at the window. "You know, I used to think that he _did_ love me…somewhere deep within…even if he just couldn't say it. But after all that's happened? No, not anymore."

The last thing I expected to hear at that moment was quiet chuckling.

"Smoothskins."

I turned back to look at her. "What?"

"Your kind so blind," she said, moving her head from side to side.

"Oh, thanks."

"Sorry, but true. You humans rely only on words, actions to determine love. Utter foolishness. And with all due respect to Honored Vulcan, telepathy not only way either."

"What are you getting at, Mrr?"

"What do you think, silly? I am saying he loves you."

I crossed my arms. "Really. And you're basing this on _what_, exactly?"

"A couple things. For one, I smell it."

"Smell it?"

"Yes. I smell love-smell."

"Huh?"

"Love-smell," she reiterated at my apparent cluelessness. "Grrrr…what is word?" Squeezing her eyes shut, she began to snap her fingers in frustration. "Must be human translation, but don't know…wait!" She looked at me suddenly. "In Klingon, word is _alorgh_."

Alorgh? "Oh no. Not you too!"

"Me too?"

"You're talking about pheromones," I said in resignation.

"Pher-mones?" she asked, her brows drawing together.

"Almost. Pher-oh-mones," I replied, as I articulated each syllable with my thumb and forefinger.

"Pher-oh-mones," she echoed slowly, her eyes entrenched in concentration.

"Yeah, pheromones," I said with a sigh. "Gaila _always _used to go on about them."

Her face took on a quizzical expression. "Orions can smell…pheromones? Well, perhaps some smoothskins are more perceptive than others."

All I could do was shake my head at the injustice of it all. Gaila wasn't even _there_, and yet they were both ganging up on me.

"But yes," she continued. "I too can smell pheromones. And even though Honored Vulcan perspires very little - less than most males - I can smell _his _pheromones."

"Is that so. And do you go around smelling all the men on the ship?"

"Rrworrr. Young Navigator. Personal favorite."

My eyes widened. "Chekov?"

She ran a long, wet tongue across the length of a single, razor-edged talon. "Yes. Musky scent. I like."

"Oh my God."

She gave an affected sigh. "But pheromones not all good. For last two weeks, Deltans have been driving men crazy, all over ship. Pheromone City I tell you. Flooding my senses." She shook her head mournfully. "This has been difficult time for me. Very difficult. Probability of full recovery? Uncertain at best." She motioned to a small plastic container on her nightstand. "Fortunately, pills are helping."

"That's what those are for?" I'd noticed that she'd been popping those things a lot, lately.

She nodded. "Funny Doctor obtained them for me on Starbase 11, when we picked up Andorian delegation." A smile came over her face. "Doctor is _very_ nice man." She covered her mouth as she gave a furtive little giggle. "Is very funny, especially when teasing Honored Vulcan." There were a couple more giggles. "And it's _very_ funny when Honored Vulcan teases him back." For the next few moments, her silently amused face did nothing but gaze into the space in front of her.

"But that is besides point," she suddenly announced with a wave of her hand. Jumping up, she stalked right over to me, put two hands on my shoulders, and directed me back to where she was just sitting. "Listen to M'Ress," she commanded, as she firmly pushed me down upon the bed. She was a _strong_ kitty. Stronger than she looked.

"You know reception last night?" she asked, with a clawed finger aimed squarely at me.

"Uh huh."

She began to pace back and forth in front of me, her arms, hands, and tail, all gesticulating wildly. "Very interesting social occasion. Have never experienced anything quite like it. Anyways, I was sitting at table with boys." Her face turned smug. "Was sitting beside _Young Navigator_. And at table beside us?" She gestured to a spot beside her. "Commander, Captain, and Funny Doctor were skillfully hosting ambassadors and delegates. Commander was sitting beside Vulcan Ambassador and…oh!" She stopped in her tracks, as her face became very excited. "Wait! Listen!"

I inclined my head in expectation. "What is it?"

Her red lips curved into a suggestive little grin. "Was going to tell you. You know Captain? He was sitting beside Deltan Ambassador. And not just _sitting _beside her, but _flirting_ with her!" A look akin to awe came upon her face. "Deltans are most particular about human partners, but Captain was succeeding admirably." Her head tilted. "His mating techniques are very impressive...don't you think?"

"No. I _don't_ think," I said, with a roll of my eyes.

Jim had decided we'd have a 'final night reception' for all the VIPs, with a dinner, dancing…the works. Of course, it was all bullshit. Sometimes we had a little function or two for VIPs, but nothing to that extent, and if there was one thing I knew, we weren't doing it because there was a delegation of _Tellarites_ on-board. In preparation, almost all the girls had reached into the hidden depths of their closets to dig out the teeniest, tiniest little numbers that were on hand. I'd never _seen_ so much skin on a starship. I'd never _seen_ so many dress-code regulations broken. But who could blame them? The enemy was a horde of hairless amazon sorceresses, any _one_ of whom could lay waste to a Miss Federation pageant without trying. The prize was the drooling Neanderthals of the _USS Enterprise_. No sane female brings a full-bodied dress gown to such a battle.

But unlike the other girls, I'd worn my little ditty for no one but myself, to show the universe the new Uhura, the Vulcanless Uhura. I didn't care about the otherworldly creature who had ensnared him within her cold and calculating mantrap. I didn't care that next to her, I felt like an awkward, skinny, nigh-pubescent schoolgirl, who was playing dress up in her mother's naughty nightclothes. And just to further prove that I didn't care, I sat with Christine and Janice in the back of the room while the whole shindig was going on…far away from both him…and her.

"Human. Are you listening?"

"Hmmm?"

"Was about to say, I think Vulcan Ambassador likes Commander."

My face showed nothing. "So, you've noticed, huh?"

She nodded. "Yes. But he does not like her. He loves you. Like I said. So don't worry."

"What? Mrr, I'm _not_ worried. And how do you _know_ all this, anyway?"

"I know through _pheromones_. Remember?" she said, pointing to her little black nose. "Listen, I could smell Ambassador's pheromones coming from table as she talked to Commander. Smelled them _before _when she was around him, but were strongest last night. Very strong. Phew!" She fanned the air in front of her. "However, Commander's pheromones? Virtually undetectable. But then, you walk into hall." She gave me a furtive wink. "Killer dress, by the way."

"Thanks," I murmured.

She raised a hand above her eyes. "The Commander, he sees you. His pheromones shoot up." She threw her hand up. "_Way_ up. Only for you. Sitting by Vulcan Ambassador, sitting by Deltan Ambassador, sitting in room full of beautiful Deltans and females with almost no clothing! But only for _you_. Rrrowwr! Do you realize how _incredible_ that is?"

"Yeah, incredible," I said, as I fought down a surge of…absolutely nothing. I mean, pheromones? It's not like I didn't believe her or anything. But pheromones? A nebulous concept at best, no matter _what _my roomies - past and present - wanted me to believe. Besides, I didn't _need_ pheromones, I needed a relationship, and I didn't even _want_ a relationship with him anymore. No. I no longer cared about anything he said or did. Not in the least.

"Mrr…you wouldn't by any chance have overheard what they were talking about would you?"

She looked down with a small frown as she appeared to give it some thought. "Conversation not very interesting. What do you call it? When talk is about nothing?"

"Small talk."

"Yes. Small talk. Boring," she said with a long sigh. "Wait." Her head perked up. "Remember _one_ interesting thing."

I leaned forward. "What was it?"

"Sort of interesting." She jerked her shoulders. "Not really."

"Come on, Mrr. Tell me! If…if you feel like it."

"Was about Babel conference."

I leaned forward a bit further. "What about it?"

"Ambassador said she could use Honored Vulcan's assistance. Captain was eager to grant leave of absence. Said it was great opportunity for Honored Vulcan's career."

"I see." Hell, he was probably packing his bags now…which was fine by me.

"No. You _don't_ see," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"He refused."

"Really? Uh...do you know why?"

She shrugged. "Gave no reason. Only said 'I cannot do it at this time, thank you'." She gave a firm nod. "Was very polite, as always."

But then she shook her head as her mouth took on an expression of distaste. "Stupid Ambassador. Honored Vulcan would _never _leave _Enterprise_. Not for _any_ reason. Not for _any_ length of time." She gave me a guilty look. "You know I like Vulcans. I do. But _that_ female?" Putting her hands on her slender hips, she raised her head in proud defiance. "I do not think that I like _her."_

"It's okay, Mrr. I won't tell anyone if you don't," I said absently, as I began to wrestle with the thoughts running around inside my head. He refused to go? To negotiations? But they could have given him experience…the kind he was always saying was required for further advancement into a diplomatic career. How could he have refused such an opportunity? How?

"He probably just had other things to do. Probably has another pet science project on the go. You know how inseparable he is from those things."

"RROWWWRRR! There is more. After dinner, he was watching you dance." Her yellow eyes narrowed as she released a full-throated snarl. "With men."

Suddenly feeling like one of her Cardassian voles, I began to back myself up upon the bed. "I just wanted to have fun, Mrr. To forget everything. I love dancing. He hates it. And we'd already broken up, so it's not like I was…"

"I do not _care_," she said fiercely. "So _soon_ after breaking up? Mere hours? I must confess, not impressed with you last night. You hurt him. Badly."

"How the hell would _you_ know?"

Suddenly looking quite miserable, she pointed to one of the lamps on the ceiling. "There was almost no light in room, and my eyes could see Commander. Could see his colors, as he stood stock-still in the dark. The colors. Ohhh..." She shook her head worriedly.

"Colors?" For a moment, I wondered just what curveball she was throwing me now. But then I remembered what her eyes were capable of. "Wait a minute. Are you saying that your night vision could tell you how he's _feeling?_"

"Of course!" she snapped. "You see, most nocturnal species only perceive _brightness_ at night." She drew herself up. "But Caitian vision is superior. We also perceive _colors_. Helps us detect physiological states in creatures while hunting. Helps us locate and differentiate between predators and prey." Her face became ominous. "Helps us stay _alive_ in dangerous wilds of Cait." She jabbed an instructive finger into the air. "And vision can also detect physiological states in humanoids. At normal states, Vulcans and humans look red-yellow in dark - usually very bright for Vulcans. But last night as he watched you? Could see blue in him. Dark blue."

"And that's bad?"

She gasped, as her jaw dropped so far I could see an entire row of pointed little teeth. "Bad? Are you _crazy_? In Vulcans? In Honored Vulcan? Not just bad. _Unprecedented_ bad! Blues. Pheromones. Made me depressed. Went to see Funny Doctor. _Very_ nice man. Brought me to sickbay for more pills." Collapsing next to me onto the bed, she began to roll around in apparent agony. "Oh the blues! Vulcan blues! Feeling sad again. Need pills. Need food!" Sitting up suddenly, she turned to look at the food locker. I could swear I saw it jiggle a little.

I couldn't deny that I wasn't feeling too proud of myself. "You're right, Mrr. I shouldn't have done that."

"So now you understand, Human," she said with an approving nod. "You and Honored Vulcan have special relationship, one rarely seen...in most bonds."

I could only shake my head at Mrr's revelations. Yes, most of them were nutzoid, as usual. But they were enough to make me reexamine some of his actions over the past while. For instance, I remembered the way his face looked yesterday, right after I said the words, right after I told him I wanted to end it. Did it look _too _blank, _too_ impassive? And his words to me after that. Did they seem a little _too_ callous? A little _too _unfeeling? Was it…was it maybe like he was over-compensating for some deep emotional shock? And over the past two weeks, when he was spending all that time with her. Could he have done all that without meaning to hurt me?

After all, she _was_ a VIP and we were encouraged to be very accommodating to VIPs and to cater to all their needs, and maybe he was just trying to be polite to her. As Mrr said, he was usually a very polite person, and considering how she could help open doors for him, he'd be especially _motivated_ to be polite. True, he'd picked a _bad time_ to be polite, given the delicate place our relationship was in. But he was _always_ clueless about things like the niceties of relationships. He was Spock, after all. And most importantly, in the end, he refused to go with her. Was it for the reason I thought it could be?

But even if this _was_ all true, did it even matter anymore? We were over and done with. I'd ended that chapter of my life. I was now officially Vulcanless…wasn't I?

"Mrr...I just...I just don't _know_."

"Yes, Nyota. You _do_ know," she said, as she gently slid her body right next to mine, and took my hand in hers. "One thing I have not mentioned. It is the blue. Seeing it in _you_ lately. Saw it in you last night. Saw it when you entered our quarters. You say you are over him? Then why is it so dark in you still? So dark. Almost black." Bowing her head for a few moments, she looked back up at me with tears glistening in her eyes. "Didn't want to tell you this. I want to be strong, funny, for you. But seeing you like this? It's tearing me apart. I love you. I want you to be happy. Both of you."

And then it's like everything just collapsed inside me. All the pretense, all the denial…just broke down.

"Oh, Mrr. It hurts," I said, as I fell into her arms, seeking shelter in the soft, bushy mane flowing around her shoulders.

It was not long before I began to remember the last time I had held her this close. Like now, tears had been in her eyes. It was in the mess hall, during dinner time. It was only a day or two after she'd come onboard, immediately after what would henceforth be known as 'the dripping blood incident'. I'd been trying to avoid our quarters, trying to avoid _her_, instead choosing to spend my off-duty shifts and nights with Spock. It was a couple months before his Pon Farr.

I was sitting with Christine and Janice when I saw her enter the hall and line up with the rest of the crew for the evening buffet. My heartstrings tugged a little as I remembered how I'd nastily suggested that she should eat 'normally' like the rest of us. Though as I later leaned, she'd ran out of the animals that she'd smuggled onboard and actually had little choice but to be there.

Even from a distance, I could tell that the day's menu was making her feel ill, as she reluctantly piled dead scraps of charred animal flesh onto her plate. After she was done, my heartstrings tugged a bit more as her eyes darted uncertainly across the room, looking for a place to sit down. Then, unable to find a welcoming seat, she sat down alone.

After a few minutes, I was about to get up and go make amends, when Lieutenant John Stiles and his posse of xenophobic bullies beat me to her. Their kind exists on every starship, even on the flagship of the United Federation of Planets. Jim had always been looking for a good reason to get rid of Stiles, but he was an admiral's son and a technically competent officer, who never quite stepped over the line when it came to his bullying tactics. That night, however, John and his buddies had been drinking and he was more than eager to step over that line, especially when he spied a tempting victim.

I could hear their jibes of 'We've got pussy on board' and 'Finally some tail' as they crowded in around her. At first, she couldn't understand exactly what they were saying, but when it became clear that they were mocking her, she became defiant, as she popped her claws and bared her teeth at them. But that only led to comments like 'We've got a wild one' and 'Better get a cage', and it was not long before I could see her wiping tears from her fierce eyes. She was in a place where nothing she did seemed right. Our strangeness, her loneliness, my own rejection of her, and then this…it was all just becoming too much for her to take. And as their incessant needling continued, she put her head into her hands and started to rock it back and forth as she began to silently break down.

At that moment, so did my heart.

I quickly got up and confronted Stiles. It wasn't easy because he was my superior officer. Even though we were both lieutenants, he had seniority over me. But I was so damn mad that I didn't care. After I scored a few well-placed verbal jabs about his manhood - or lack thereof - he asked me if I was going to go run to my pointy-eared boyfriend for help. I was about to smack him one, to hell with the consequences, when I heard a very familiar voice coming from the mess hall doors, ringing loud and clear across the entire room.

'He is already present, Mr. Stiles. Indeed, his _pointy ears_ have been listening to you for the past 5.2 minutes.'

Yes, he'd heard. And he'd seen. And on his face was nothing but cold rage. Soon, the entire room stood shocked in silence, as he lined Stiles and his men up, single file, and began to verbally eviscerate them with a voice that could break steel.

As I sheltered the tear-filled Caitian in my arms, they tried sputtering how they'd been 'only joking'. Spock responded by saying that Vulcans never joke and if they tried giving him one more excuse, he would confine them not to their quarters, but to the nearest Class M planetoid. I think that was when Stiles started to cry a bit. Spock then forced each of them to snivel out an apology to her. I'll admit that they made them seem heartfelt, but it didn't do them any good, because they were all transferred off the ship before the week was out, including Stiles.

When he was through with them, Spock dismissed the entire room, leaving the three of us there alone. The first thing he did was bow to her. He literally _bowed_ to her, to M'Ress, a _subordinate_, and then weird, growly sounds started coming out of his mouth. Only when she responded in those same sounds did I realize that he'd spoken to her in Caitian. Then, his eyes sought me out, and he gave me one of his enigmatic half-smiles as he motioned to her, and then back to me. I knew what he was trying to tell me. He was telling me that we would take care of her together. I also saw something else in his face at that moment, something I didn't need super-sensitive senses or even a telepathic bond to see. It caused me to forget all about trivial matters like dead carrion hanging from my ceiling, or ugly little creepers crawling under the covers with me.

After he had left the two of us standing there absolutely shell-shocked, I turned to M'Ress' face - her stunned, awed, and eternally grateful face - and I told her 'Yes, that is my boyfriend.'

"I love him," I said aloud.

Mrr patted me on the back. "Of course you do, foolish human. Of course you do. You love him. He loves you. Did I not _tell_ you?"

Feeling my mouth turn upward, I looked into her own smiling face. "Yes, Mrr. You told me."

In more ways than one.

But though I felt much better, I was also starting to feel this weird urge in the back of my mind. "You know, if we do manage to work things out…"

"If?" she scoffed. "When! Silly!"

"_When_ we work things out…"

If we didn't, I _was_ going to neuter him. For real.

"…there's one thing I really want us to do together. I think it could help."

"What?"

"I want to make out with him in the movie theatre. _Really_ badly. I mean, there doesn't even have to be any people there. Hell, the movie doesn't even need to be _on_ if he doesn't want. Maybe he could reserve it for an evening or something? Just for us? What do you think?"

She gave me a comforting smile. "Commander is a very resourceful man. Indeed, a superior being. I am _certain_ he would be able to."

I looked towards the clock on the wall. "I think he's off his shift. Maybe I should go talk to him. You know, try and make up."

"Yes. Go," she said, shooing me towards the door. "Make up. Make out. Make love. I am hungry."

Then, without a word of warning, Mrr got up and dashed to her locker: the locker that _he'd _gotten for her and the locker that _he _somehow kept supplied with critters, even though it broke a million ship's rules, and even though he was the staunchest vegetarian in the galaxy.

Falling to her knees, she slammed it open and eagerly began to peruse the scurrying contents, as the air became full with the same screams of shrill terror that had long since haunted my nightmares.

"My babies," she said as she delectably fluttered her long talons. "Time to play. I make silly girl happy. You make M'Ress happy. But which one first? Hmmm…" Smacking her lips, she began to rub her furry hands together.

It was time to get the hell out of there. My eyes averted, my ears trying to ignore the panicked shrieks, I'd almost made it to the door when I heard her voice calling me.

"Human."

"Yes, Mrr?" Not sure if it was safe for me to turn around, I slowly rotated my neck partway in her direction. She was wearing a broad, mischievous smirk, as she dangled a squirming little rat-like thing by its tail.

"What do you think Young Navigator tastes like?"

"Oh my God."

She shrugged, her face looking all innocent. "Just asking. Missed dessert last night. Like you, I want to...make up."

**The End**


End file.
